CHAPTER 11

Nahele wound some vines together to get some more length. He tugged to make sure the end was secure in the banyan tree, and then scrambled down below to the small ledge. He lay on his stomach and peered over the edge.

"Gilleeegaan?" he called. There he was - only four feet down and hanging on for dear life.

Gilligan looked up. "Hurry up, Nahele. My hands are slipping," he gasped.

Nahele couldn't understand the words, but he recognized the desperation in Gilligan's voice. He nodded and scrambled back to drop the vines down to the sailor.

xxxxx

Skipper and Lalani ran through the jungle. Skipper had never moved so fast. He reached out and took Lalani's hand as they hit a steep section of trail and worked their way up.

She brushed the tears out of her eyes. "He will be okay," she kept repeating, like a chant. Skipper was trying to hold his emotions in check, but he felt like crying, too.

xxxxx

At the top of the cliff-face, Pilipo and the rest of the hunting party all looked at each other in confusion. Where were Gilligan and Nahele?

MaryAnn gave Professor a worried look. "Where's Gilligan?" she squeaked. "He didn't go past us."

Professor looked nervously toward the perilous edge. He moved closer and cautiously peered over the edge, much like Nahele had done just moments before. What he saw made him gasp. Immediately, the others all ran to the edge and looked over. Only MaryAnn stood back, hugging herself, with tears streaming down her face.

"Is he down there?" she asked, her tears choking her up.

"He must be," Professor answered. "I can't see him, but Nahele is down there on a small ledge, winding some vines together."

Pilipo called down to Nahele, and the two natives talked back and forth. Pilipo was trying to tell the others what they needed to do.

Right then, Skipper and Lalani came charging out of the jungle. "Did you get him? Did you get him?" he screamed frantically. He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. His head was soaked with sweat, and he was gasping for breath.

Lalani ran to Pilipo and the girls. They started talking and gesturing. Then they got to work. Ikaia and Akoni ran back to the jungle and started to chop down two small saplings. They hollered to the girls to all start collecting as many vines as they could gather. They had to build a stretcher.

Skipper joined Professor at the edge and looked down, watching Nahele working frantically.

Pilipo checked with Nahele to see if he needed more vines. They needed to make a harness to get around Gilligan to hoist him up. The castaways and the natives worked together in frantic silence.

xxxxx

Meanwhile, down below, Gilligan hung on to the roots. His breath was ragged, and he was in more pain than he had ever been in before . . . even when he broke his ribs tackling Skipper to save him from the rolling depth charge . . . even when he accidentally kicked Skinny Mulligan in the face, slicing his heel open on Skinny's braces . . . even when he ran his own foot over with his lawnmower when he was 14 years old and broke his big toe.

His hands were sweaty and his grip was weakening. His side was throbbing, and he was becoming so light-headed, he was hoping he didn't pass out.

"Heeellllpppppppp," he called. "Please hurry! I can't hold on much longer." That last statement was just a squeak . . . he really didn't want to panic his friends . . . but he was past the point of being scared and trying not to reach a state of hysteria.

Suddenly, he heard a calm, reassuring voice above his head. "Gilligan, hang on, my friend." Gilligan looked up into Professor's worried face. "Ikaia and Akoni are building a stretcher with the girls, and Pilipo and Nahele are going to pull you up in a harness. They just need a few more minutes - you HAVE to hang on."

"I'm trying, Professor. I'm trying," he squeaked. "I'm hurt, though. My side is bleeding . . . pretty bad. I'm real dizzy." Gilligan leaned back just a bit so he could see the Professor. Then he wished he hadn't. Professor wasn't quick enough to hide the despair he felt at those words.

From further on up, he heard the Skipper bellow. "Gilligan, you hang on and that's an order. Failure is not an option, Sailor."

Gilligan almost grinned. He could hear the tenderness in Skipper's voice, even though his big buddy was trying to be gruff and commanding. He clenched his teeth, tightened his grip and felt around carefully with his feet, looking for a toe-hold. He found a root or something sticking out just enough to catch his right toe on. It provided a tiny bit of relief on his arms.

After another two minutes, though, his resolve was faltering.

"Come on, guys," he moaned. He was just on the verge of calling out again, when a vine came over the edge right next to him with a funny looking contraption on the end. As he was hanging there, contemplating how he was going to get himself into it, Nahele came down on his own vine.

He grunted some unintelligible words to the exhausted first mate. Gilligan didn't know what he said - all he knew was that he was at the end of his rope - literally, figuratively and any other way you could take that. Nahele sensed how close he was to just letting go. He worked fast and furiously, wrapping the make-shift harness around the young man and through his legs.

Gilligan felt his hands ready to give out. He groaned and tried to tell the native man to hurry, but the words wouldn't come out. He felt his eyes roll and his head lolled back.

Nahele shouted to the others. Pilipo was on the small ledge hanging onto the vine, and Skipper and Professor were up at the top with the other end. They all started heaving, and not a moment too soon. Gilligan's hands went lax as he finally passed out.